


The Patrol Schedule

by wish123



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Romance, Secret Relationship, Slughorn's Christmas Party, clerical errors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wish123/pseuds/wish123
Summary: After a slight shake of his head, he turned back to her. “Granger, I’m not looking to get into it with you this year. If there’s any barrier to us working collaboratively, I can tell you right now that it’s going to be you.”She felt a fire light throughout her body at the audacity of his statement. Not an ounce of trust stirred in her in response to his words, and she suppressed the thoughts that tempted her to reflect on whether there was any truth to them.Still, the last thing she would need is if he ran off to McGonagall and insinuated that she was the one refusing to work with him.“Fine. You can start by handling the patrol schedule for this month.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 167





	The Patrol Schedule

**Author's Note:**

  * For [In_Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/gifts).



> For one of my sprint friends, In Dreams, who has graciously allowed me to pester her with questions about writing and impart her wisdom to me. 
> 
> I'm so incredibly grateful to Frumpologist (alpha) and ravenslight (beta) for their support. They are both so lovely and are fantastic cheerleaders.

Returning to Hogwarts as an eighth-year student, Hermione had been bestowed the title of Head Girl, an opportunity she thought she had surrendered when they left to seek Horcruxes. It was to her surprise and satisfaction when she received her letter, which informed her of the news and had enclosed the coveted silver badge. 

The only apprehension that she carried into the school year was the news that Draco Malfoy had been named Head Boy. Headmistress McGonagall had written her with the news, taking care to reassure her of the decision and outline for her a vision of partnership and restoration that she hoped would come from their collaboration. Still, Hermione had her doubts about it, uncertain how someone like Draco would truly cooperate with her. She all but expressed as much during their first meeting as Heads. 

“I won’t stand for any demeaning behavior this year, and I expect that you will present a united front for the Prefects and other students. Carrying out my Head duties to the best of my ability is my main objective, and if you don’t wish to carry out yours—” 

“I have every intention of fulfilling my duties as Head Boy, and that does not include undermining you.” 

Hermione eyed him, questioning his response. His declaration was resolute, but that didn’t stop her doubts. 

“Well, then that’s to be seen. I don’t even mind doing everything as long as you understand how imperative it is that on the outside this appears as a functional partnership.” 

As she continued, he seemed unphased. Draco looked to the side and pursed his lips. After a slight shake of his head, he turned back to her. “Granger, I’m not looking to get into it with you this year. If there’s any barrier to us working collaboratively, I can tell you right now that it’s going to be you.” 

She felt a fire light throughout her body at the audacity of his statement. Not an ounce of trust stirred in her in response to his words, and she suppressed the the temptation to reflect on whether there was any truth to them. 

Still, the last thing she would need is if he ran off to McGonagall and insinuated that she was the one refusing to work with him. 

“Fine. You can start by handling the patrol schedule for this month.” 

* * *

The first few weeks of school passed with an unsettling lack of conflict between herself and Draco. On top of having to work together this year, they also shared a common room as Heads. The time and proximity together did not create additional tension between the two. 

Settled into the couch one evening in the common room, with only the sound of the fireplace cracking, Hermione was working ahead on her assignments. As much as she loved the atmosphere of the library, she found that she enjoyed having her own private study space. Or, semi-private. Thankfully, Draco took his studies outside of their common room—she assumed either the library or the dungeons. No matter where he’d chosen, it gave her the freedom most evenings to work as she pleased. 

In her letters exchanged with Harry and Ron, they’d not taken well to the fact that Malfoy had been named Head Boy. Ron’s response was particularly colourful, knowing that meant she was sharing living arrangements with Draco. Over the summer, she and Ron decided to put a pin in their potential relationship. While they hadn’t established exclusivity, they’d reached some understanding as Hermione left for Hogwarts that they would resume exploring where things stood with ‘them.’ Despite her efforts to placate Ron, she herself was reaching a point where she couldn’t deny her own error in judgement about Draco. 

Malfoy had done exactly what he said that he would do: reliably completed any and all responsibilities that he’d been assigned, and he was always cordial. In her own reflection, she was grieved to become more and more aware that her own actions posed the biggest threat to them working effectively together. It was a habit for her to always review his work or ask for a status update on tasks he was required to complete, the patrols he filled in for when on call, and the issues he addressed with the Prefects. Her display demonstrated her lack of trust in him, and yet, he’d proved her wrong over and over again. On top of that, he’d always withheld offense to her actions. Occasionally, she’d see a flash of a familiar look or sneer, as if tempted to return to old ways or deliver a retort, but he’d yet to give in to it. 

Looking over at the clock, she realised that it was already after 11:00pm. Patrols were scheduled to be over right about now, but Draco still hadn’t returned to their room, despite the fact that it wasn’t his night to patrol. The grip around her quill tightened as she wrote. Was he using his status to his own advantage? Before getting carried away by the thought, her study session was interrupted by the sound of the portrait opening. 

She glanced up to see Draco stepping through and then diverted her eyes back to the parchment in front of her. A moment later, Draco was beside her, extending her a paper. 

“Patrol report,” was all that he said as he shifted back, expecting her review and awaiting any questions. 

Raising a brow, she was uncertain why Draco had the report. They both took turns in an on-call rotation to be available to respond to issues or to fill in as backup in the event someone for any urgent reason couldn’t make their shift. It also meant that she was to receive the report at the conclusion of the evening since she was the one on-call. 

“Why did they give it to you?” 

“I wrote it. I was on patrol tonight.” 

She turned back to the paper. “But it wasn’t your night.” 

“Tracey Davies was ill. I was in the dormitory at the time, so I went and met Neville for rounds.” 

“Why didn’t you just come and get me?” 

“Because I was right there, Granger. Did you  _ want _ to do patrol this evening?” The answer was no, she didn’t particularly want to fill in this evening as she thought of how productive her night had been; however, it seemed out of character that Draco would so graciously fill in—and with Neville, of all people. 

After a few moments of her silence, he attempted to walk back on his initial reaction. “Look, it’s not a big deal.” There was a tired edge to his voice, and she watched as he rubbed a hand across his face and through his hair. He proceeded towards his bedroom door; just as he was about to disappear through it, she called after him. Hand paused on the door handle, he turned back to face her, looking tense as though he didn’t want the conversation to continue. 

“Thank you.” 

Her voice was small, but she’d still said it. His face softened at her words. With a nod, he went to bed. 

She sat back on the couch in a bit of a daze, realising that Draco Malfoy was progressively becoming more of a question to her. A question she wanted to explore and research further. 

* * *

Hermione started to take small steps to extend trust to Draco. Whenever he completed one of his tasks, she would resist the temptation to double check his work. So, when he handed her the next month’s patrol schedule, her only response was to take the paper and cast a spell to start making copies to distribute to the Prefects. With a raised eyebrow, Draco watched, as if assessing whether she was playing a trick on him. 

Hermione returned to her audit of reports. 

“You aren’t going to review it?” His question came out as a statement. 

Her only response was a nod to confirm and try to remain focused so as to not bring attention to the change. 

“Why? You do every month.” Clear unease was in his voice. “You study that schedule down to the most miniscule detail looking for errors.” 

Her grip tensed on the paper she was holding. He certainly wasn’t going to make this easy for her, was he? “Yes, I realise that is what I’ve done. Perhaps I no longer see a need to do so…” 

“And I asked  _ why _ .” 

Taking a deep breath, she finally looked up to meet his questioning stare. 

“Because I trust you.” When the words dropped from her mouth, she could hear how small her voice was. 

“You trust me,” he scoffed. 

“Or, at least—” she paused “—I’m trying to trust you.” 

The answer didn’t seem to appease him. Something about the look on his face told her that he was still searching for something. His posture shifted as though he wanted to respond but was holding himself back. 

Hermione sat frozen under his gaze as she waited to see what he would do. However, instead of saying something else, he simply left. 

After he had departed, she let out a heavy breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Closing her eyes and slumping back in her chair, she anticipated that things would most likely become uncomfortable between the two of them after this. 

But, as it turned out, quite the opposite occurred. Rather than things becoming weird between the two of them, Draco surprised her by becoming more comfortable with her. She noticed it in subtle ways. He was more open to approach her with questions or for her input to problem solve issues. Their conversation a few times had even branched out to include topics they were learning in classes. 

The most surprising act of all occurred when Hermione was spending another evening curled up in their common room. A normal routine for Draco would have included him leaving their dormitory, bag stuffed full of his books in hand. Instead, when he walked out of his room, there was no bag in hand; his arms simply held a few books, quill and parchment, and a box of sweets she recognised as one his mother traditionally sent. Without a word, he settled into the couch across from her and arranged all of his materials in front of him...as if this was his normal routine. 

She couldn’t pull her eyes away from him, uncertain of what this development was all about. 

“Is something wrong?” Draco’s question broke through her train of thought. 

As she came back to attention, she felt her face flush, muttering back to him that everything was fine. Returning back to her own text, she did her best to refocus on the words in front of her. The rest of the time passed with both of them completing their respective work in their newfound company. 

* * *

Their shared study sessions in the common room continued. Initially, they worked in a comfortable silence, but over time, they started sharing insights and digging into deeper discussion together about assignments. Draco wasn’t done surprising her though. The next development happened during an evening when Hermione had patrols. She had been waiting outside of the Prefect office waiting for her usual partner, Padma Patil, to arrive when Draco showed up instead. 

“Ready?” 

“Where’s Padma?”

“Padma?” Draco queried, narrowing his brow. “You really didn’t look at the patrol schedule, did you?” 

Hermione racked her brain. She hadn’t looked closely at the schedule for the past two months. She’d glanced at it to confirm her on-call days stayed the same, assuming nothing was changing with her normal patrol schedule or partner. 

“Wha—?”

“We’re partnered on patrols this month.” 

“But it’s best practice not to pair both of the Heads on patrol together.” 

Draco smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Clerical error. Didn’t get caught in the review process.” 

Without another word, he began walking down the hall. Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach and stood dumbfounded by the implication that Draco had done this on purpose. And it didn’t appear to be for the purpose of riling her up. Considering the action was intentional though, that meant… 

“Granger!” 

Snapping back, she broke into a brisk walk. He looked at her as they walked alongside each other. “I can go back and switch—”

“No!” Hermione’s interruption surprised her along with Draco, who stopped in his tracks. She recovered. “No sense burdening another Prefect over the oversight. Let’s continue.” 

She felt her cheeks heating up, so she tried to stay a few steps ahead of him while she composed herself. 

Paired with Draco for the rest of the month. Her stomach wouldn’t stop fluttering over the thought. 

* * *

As they added patrols to their ever growing list of daily intersections, the frequency of study sessions and planning Prefect meetings seemed to increase as well. Draco continued to open up the more time that they spent together, even growing more…  _ playful _ in their exchanges. Confusion started riddling Hermione’s thoughts as their relationship grew. 

They got along like friends; however, she couldn’t shake the persistent signs that she was feeling something more for him. What was more difficult was trying to gauge where Draco was at. 

When they would have their study sessions, there were moments when Hermione would sneak looks at him. She was enchanted by the look on his face when he was working out a problem. He had a tendency to bite at his fingernails and fidget with his quill feather. Sometimes he would catch her looking, after which she would immediately readjust her seating to try and cover herself, ignoring the amused smirk she’d always catch a glimpse of as she reshuffled. She could swear that he would sneak similar looks, too. 

After one of their scheduled rounds ended, they returned to their room laughing after they’d stumbled upon two seventh years messing around. When they’d been unsure how to describe the incident in their report, Draco began tossing out suggestions that left Hermione’s stomach aching from all of her laughter. 

As they recovered from their fits of laughter, they stood for a moment in silence just taking the other in with amused expressions. Eventually, their expressions softened and the atmosphere suddenly shifted. Hermione began to feel flush and jerked away in order to hide it. “Well, I guess I’ll be turning in for the evening.” 

Hermione started moving towards her room before Draco stopped her. 

“You’re not going to bed already, are you?” 

She felt a lurch in her heart that he might not want her to go. Glancing towards the clock to check the time, she felt tired, but she wasn’t sure if sleep would come to her if she missed an opportunity with him. “It’s late. Was there something else that we needed to do? We should be fine to wait until morning to finish the report.”

Instead of responding, though, all Draco did was hold a finger up towards her—asking her to wait a moment. He then picked up his pace towards his room. Hermione waited in question as to what he was up to. When he re-emerged from his room, he had with him a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses. He held one out to her as an offering, which she hesitantly accepted. He moved over to the couch and sat down, waiting for her to join him. 

Accepting the invitation, Hermione moved to join him. 

“Do you always have that stashed away in your room?” 

“Sometimes. I like to enjoy one when winding down for the evening. I think you’d agree there are benefits to having your own dormitory. You don’t need to worry about others stealing from your stash.” 

“Did that happen to you often?” 

He shrugged. “Regularly. Crabbe and Goyle had a habit of trying to sneak things from the treats my mother sent me. I never bothered with it, though, because I knew I could always request that she send more. I do have to admit that I was also a culprit of siphoning from someone else’s stash.” 

Hermione noted a sick look briefly cross his face when he mentioned Crabbe. 

She decided to help by directing the conversation on to different topics. 

They chatted while one turned into multiple over the course of the next few hours. Eventually, they ended up seated together on the floor, leaning back against one of the couches as they continued to swap stories from the last few years that neither of them had previously been privy to. 

Hermione ended up telling Draco the story of how she’d cast a spell of yellow canaries at Ron when he’d made her angry for snogging Lavender in sixth year. Of course, it was one of the stories that Draco enjoyed the most. 

Though she’d only had a few glasses, Hermione was starting to feel light headed. There were a few moments where she’d hesitated to share some of her thoughts with Draco, but she’d push forward knowing that she had come to genuinely trust him more. Though she felt a slight pang of nerves each time she told a story or anecdote involving Ron, she had confidence Draco wouldn’t somehow use it in the future against him—or her. 

“How did you end up with Weasley anyway? I have to admit I never really saw the two of you together.” 

“I don’t know if I would say that the two of us ended up together.” 

“So you’re not?” 

Hermione took a sip of her drink and shook her head as she swallowed. “No, we—well.” She paused. “We shared some affection for each other, but over the summer we agreed to just leave things as is. He was going to training, and I was returning to school. We aren’t together.” 

Another pause. She could feel Draco’s eyes on her. Hermione continued, “I guess that’s not to say he might not be expecting something after this year is over.” 

“Are  _ you _ expecting something?” The question compelled her gaze back to him. Based on his tone, there was a weight to his inquiry. 

“Originally, when school started, I was. But I wanted the year to think.” Anticipation was in his eyes. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. It gave her a rush, perhaps another clue that Draco might be feeling some of the same things that she was. “However, now I wouldn’t say that I’m expecting or waiting for anything.” 

“Any reason in particular?” 

She supposed that Draco was asking her to be the brave one here. Did he want her to reveal her feelings first? Trying to swallow the knot in her throat, she wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to answer his question. All of her Gryffindor courage seemed to be missing at this moment as she stared back into Draco’s gaze. His words hung between them as their silence continued. 

Heart pounding in her chest and heat filling her ears, the look on Draco’s face grew more intense, and then she watched as he glanced down towards her lips. Looking back up at her, his expression seemed to ask for her consent. She felt her own head tilt forward to lessen the gap as he inched towards her. Their heads appeared to be dancing around each other as the space between the two of them closed at a painfully slow rate. Just as their lips were about to connect, the loud chime of the clock began banging loudly through the room. 

They both whipped back from each other, startled by the sound. Both appeared scattered by the failed attempt, and neither of them could look at the other. When Hermione tugged at her robes, she could see Draco readjust himself. As she was still trying to figure out how to recover the situation, he seemed to bounce back first. 

“It’s late. We should probably turn in for the evening.” 

Her heart plummeted, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes at the disappointment of the lost moment. 

With a wave of his wand, Draco cleared their glasses before disappearing into his room. She was sure she heard a muffled thump against the door after it closed. She imagined him standing there just as confused as she was. 

It took her a few minutes to move before she herself dragged herself into her room, sleep evading her. 

* * *

Everything the next morning unfolded like normal. Draco acted as though nothing had happened, and while Hermione couldn’t deny that she was disappointed, she followed suit. Considering they lived and worked together, it didn’t seem productive after everything they had gained this year that they’d suddenly take a step back. 

That weekend was the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Conveniently, Draco was gone frequently the rest of the week for additional practices. It gave her the space and time to clear her mind and refocus. 

The day of, she was able to catch him before he left to head down to the pitch. Already dressed in his Quidditch uniform, she hadn’t realised she’d been staring until he cleared his throat. When she looked up, his trademark smirk was plastered across his face. She shook it off and wished him luck. 

“Never would have thought I’d see the day when Hermione Granger would wish me luck…and against her own house.” His tone was light, and he winked at her in jest as he walked out. 

Seated amongst the sea of red and gold, she spent the match torn between her support for Ginny and her house and her pull to see Draco catch the snitch. The moment he did, it was as if the world stopped momentarily. This was mostly a result of the shock waves that went through the Gryffindor stands. While the crowd was shrinking around her in defeat, Hermione was internally cheering for him. 

Despite the loss, her house still had a small party in the Gryffindor common room. Ginny had still put on a phenomenal performance, and the whole team still had optimistic spirits about the rest of the season. 

It was after curfew when Hermione excused herself from the festivities. She made it halfway back when she rounded a corridor only to see a figure down the hall walking towards her. As she registered the familiar green, she realised it was Draco making his own way back. 

“Coming from your victory party?” Hermione asked lightheartedly as they neared each other. 

He nodded. “Figured it was time to turn in by the time half the team had passed out in the common room.” 

She tilted her head in the direction of their dormitory. “Walk back together?” 

As Draco stood there regarding her, she began to feel self-conscious by the question, uncertain what his alternative intent may have been if not to return to the room. 

“You know,” he started. The way he was looking at her told her that he might be just as nervous of her answer. “Given how rowdy my house was this evening, I wouldn’t put it past some of the students to try and evade curfew.” 

Her body stood to attention, realising that he wanted to engage in official business. Here she was hoping for a stroll back to their room together enjoying an opportunity for conversation with him. 

“Right, are you thinking we should do one more round—”

A glint of something appeared in Draco’s eyes. “Actually, I was thinking of an extra patrol around the grounds.” 

“The grounds?” Hermione felt her nose wrinkle at the suggestion. 

“Yes, the grounds. It’s a lovely evening.” A soft smile developed on his face and about the time she felt a rush of warmth run through her veins, understanding dawning on her. 

“You’re right.” Momentarily embarrassed by her misunderstanding, she cleared her throat and straightened her expression. “The grounds probably do deserve a look. It’s our duty, after all, to make sure no troublesome students are out and about.” 

At this point, she’d take any excuse to accept a walk with him. Draco extended a hand for her to step first. 

They ended up returning to the Quidditch pitch for the second time that day. As they seated themselves in the stands, Draco was deep in relaying highlights of the match from his vantage point. Though she was never truly interested in the sport, she couldn’t help the thrill she felt as she listened to him. 

“Your catch was brilliant today…” 

Draco glanced down as he muttered his thanks. “Maybe sometime you should learn to play.” 

“Absolutely not,” Hermione said, scoffing at the suggestion. “I have no interest in learning. I hate flying and, as you know, will only do it in a life or death situation.” 

“If you had a good teacher…” 

“You don’t—” 

Laughter cut her off. “I’ll clarify—not me. I have no patience for teaching. I don’t think that you and I would be friends by the end of it.”

_ Friends. _ The term made her still. Not that there wasn’t truth to it. That was certainly how she’d come to think of them. Draco, obviously, did as well. She looked up into the night sky—hoping wildly and inexplicably they could be more. 

“I was really glad that you caught the Snitch today, Draco.” 

“You mentioned that,” he said, amused. He must have thought she was repeating herself. 

“No.” She shook her head but still wasn't looking at him. “What I mean is that I was happy that it was  _ you _ that caught it.” 

Silence followed her short declaration—her heart begging that he’d understand. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him turn to her. 

“It means something to me to have your support and confidence. Not just today, but this year.” 

She quickly looked at him, her eyes searching him for his intentions and not wanting to misunderstand him. “Why?” 

It felt like a silly question once she asked it considering that she’d been the one who started this cryptic game. 

“Is that really a question?” He let out a breathy laugh. “Hermione Granger, who I’ve taunted and teased over the past seven years...” He readjusted himself against the bench, turning his body to face her. “I’m sorry… for everything. You deserved none of it, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness or the trust you’ve extended me.” 

“I do trust you.” The words fell abruptly from her mouth. Pausing a minute, she closed her eyes to reset before turning to him. “I’ve grown to trust you, and you’ve shown me that you’ve changed.”

The grey in Draco’s eyes was piercing. As she looked at him, his face appeared stressed as if asking her if she was sure. If it was really a good idea. If she realised there wouldn’t be any going back. She knew the answers to all of the questions was yes. 

Her heart started to pick up speed, as if racing to catch up to a moment that’d previously gotten away from her. This time, she was determined not to lose it. Barely a beat passed between when she stared down at his lips and when they made contact. Her eyes closed instantly, reveling in the feel of his lips against hers. Softly, he began to move against her. They soon found themselves in the middle of a heated snogging session in the stands of the Quidditch stadium.

It was perfect. 

* * *

Hermione went to bed that night terrified that, by morning, he would regret the whole thing. Instead, she woke up to a Draco who consistently sought stolen kisses from her whether in the confines of their dormitory, a hidden alcove between classes, or, the most thrilling, in the Prefect’s office before a scheduled meeting. They enjoyed discreet touches when reaching for something in their kitchenette or the potions storage room. 

Seated again on the couch working on her assignment, Draco had nonchalantly wandered over to seat himself next to her. She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. Eventually glancing up to look towards him, she was met with the same foolish smile before she returned to her studies. By the end of the evening, however, she’d found herself wrapped in his arms as she read her text and he read his. 

When their affections spilled over into their patrols, Hermione tried to resist and maintain the integrity of their responsibilities. However, she couldn’t seem to bring herself to resist him when he started snogging her in the middle of them. The logical part of her brain would immediately turn to mush when his lips met hers or she felt his hand slide over her body. 

The next time Draco had handed her a schedule, she waited until he had left to give it a once over. Not to review for mistakes but to feed the heat in her veins as she found the same, ‘clerical error’ pairing them again. 

Hermione was falling hard and fast for Draco Malfoy and suspected the same from him. 

It was as though she got to exist in their own little bubble, without a care for the complexities they might find if his parents or her friends knew of their budding romance. Selfishly, she wanted to enjoy what they had for themselves for as long as she could. 

* * *

The holiday break was only a few weeks away when reality decided to rain on her parade. 

“Harry’s coming for Slughorn’s Christmas party.” 

Hermione paused in the middle of the article that she’d been reading. She’d completely forgotten about the party. Slughorn hadn’t held it last year for obvious reasons; he’d talked about this year being bigger than ever with the attendees that had been invited. 

“I was thinking…” Ginny stated to the breakfast in front of her, “Maybe it would be a nice opportunity to invite Ron.” She innocently shrugged her shoulders as she finished her suggestion. 

Maintaining her focus on the Prophet in front of her, Hermione shifted on the bench. “I’m not sure that would be a good—”

“He’s hoping that you’ll ask him to come.” When Hermione looked up at Ginny, her friend’s eyes looked to be pleading with her. 

Unsure of what to say, she averted her gaze away from Ginny. 

“What happened?” Ginny pressed. “Do you not like him anymore?” 

Hermione’s eyes closed, and she took a deep breath. “I know that we agreed to see where things were after school, but… inviting him might be misleading.”

“It’s only misleading if you don’t think you’ll get back together.” Ginny’s voice had grown tight, confidently calling Hermione out. 

As she dared a look back towards Ginny, her eyes shifted over her shoulder. There was a small window that gave Hermione a view of Draco across the hall. She didn’t feel ready, or even think that now was really the time and place, to explain to Ginny why. 

As if sensing her stare, he looked towards her. He must have been able to tell that something was wrong; the look he was giving her asking if she was okay.

“Hermione.” 

She broke eye contact with Draco, looking back at Ginny. 

“I have to go.” 

Before Ginny could respond, Hermione grabbed for her bag and took off down the Great Hall. She hadn’t made it very far before she felt an arm grasp her shoulder. Jumping, she turned to find that Draco had followed her. Without saying anything, he walked her around the corner. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Their eyes briefly met, and she immediately knew he was doubtful of her answer. 

“Granger.” 

“We can talk tonight.” 

Not ready to speak with Ginny, she likewise didn’t feel prepared to have this conversation with Draco. As if sensing that her insistence was firm, he gave her a hesitant look before nodding in agreement to her request. 

Unsurprisingly, when Hermione returned to their common room that evening, he was waiting for her. Sitting next to him, she proceeded to tell him about Slughorn’s party and about her conversation with Ginny. 

“Oh, I guess I thought it would be worse.” Draco sank back into the couch. 

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. 

“I mean, I’m sorry she reacted that way, but I think this works out better than you think.” 

“Why? How do you think this will work out well?” 

A look that Hermione couldn’t place flashed across his eyes. “Because I thought we would go together.” 

Body tensed and eyes wide, she was caught off guard. They hadn’t said a word to each other about telling people. “You think that’s the solution? What do you want me to introduce you as, my boyfriend?”

His brows knitted. She could tell anything less than her immediate agreement wasn’t sitting well with him. “Yes.” 

“I told you that Ron expects me to invite him—that my friends hope that I would invite him. I don’t think introducing our relationship to everyone by arriving at this party is the way that I want them to find out.” 

She watched as Draco’s neck began to tint red. 

“Weasley… is the reason that you don’t want to tell anyone about us?” 

She felt her own heat rising. “Not in the way that you’re taking it. I have no intention of getting back together with Ron, but that doesn’t change the fact that these are my friends, and I don’t want to hurt them.” 

“And my point still stands. You don’t want to say anything because of the Weasel.” 

She felt a familiar fire running through her veins at his irrationality. A feeling that she hadn’t felt in a long time in response to Draco. 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she attempted to reset herself. “Look—”

“Are you embarrassed by me?”

“Of course I’m not embarrassed by you! How many times do I have to explain these are my closest friends—”

“And I have a family that will be just as jolted by the news. Friends, too. You’re not the only one that stands to alienate people.” 

“Draco, the fact that we’re only just having this conversation should tell you that we need to take time to sort this out.” 

“I think you just need to tell me when you’re ready, Granger.” 

With no more left to say, Draco stomped off into his bedroom. As soon as his door closed, she buried herself into the couch. Taking deep breaths, it took Hermione several minutes to calm down from his childish display. 

The next morning, she woke to a distant Draco. When she’d attempt to speak with him, he’d merely rebuff her with some excuse about being late for class or needing to study. There were a few moments over the next week where she’d catch Draco turning to say something to her, as if forgetting the whole reason that they’d been fighting in the first place. He’d catch himself though and close off again. 

The biggest disappointment came on the night of their patrol: Neville showed up in his stead to do rounds with her. Despite the fact that she was on the logical end of this argument, she found the echo of one of his sentiments growing louder in her mind. She wasn’t embarrassed by him, and she needed to prove that. 

* * *

Hermione fidgeted with the strap of her satin green clutch, which complemented her juniper, winter a-line dress. She took one last look at herself in the mirror before walking across to Draco’s room. 

She brought her hand up to wrap against his door. As she stepped back, she ran her hand over a few spots on her dress, smoothing out non-existent creases. Feeling her heart beating hard in her chest, she let out a breath to calm herself. Surely he was taking his sweet time on purpose. 

Draco eventually opened the door to his room. He narrowed his eyes at her. Hands rooted in the pockets of his trousers, he stood there waiting expectantly.

Clearing her throat, she’d prepared for this. She’d taken care to mute the pridefulness in her that was asserting that she was rewarding bad behavior. 

“Draco,” she began tentatively, “I would like for you to attend Slughorn’s Christmas party with me this evening.” 

Considering she’d blocked out this scenario in her head, she was satisfied with her final delivery. In her head, she expected that Draco might react in several ways. Perhaps a sultry smirk, a flattered look of surprise, or maybe simply his toothy smile that made her stomach swoop. She felt a smile form in anticipation. 

He tightened his jaw. “You want me to go with you.” 

Her smile faltered. Skepticism. Another reaction she should have expected but not the ideal reaction she was looking for. 

Shoulders back. “Yes.” 

Draco raised his chin, looking up and away from her. “I have plans.” 

Her arms dropped to her sides, exasperated by his response. Apparently, she’d thought about every reaction except for the one he gave her. Refusing to let her heart drop at the rejection, she pushed on. 

“What plans could you possibly have?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Thought I’d work on the patrol schedule. Change things up.” 

A string snapped. “Fine. I don’t have time for you to be a prat about this, Draco.” 

Turning on her heels, she stomped out of the dormitory. As she made her way towards the seventh floor, all she could hear through her anger was the firm echo of her footfall against the stone. Nearing the entrance, she began to hear the distant sound of music playing. The event was already in full swing. 

Arriving, she crossed through the drapes. Emerald, crimson, and gold hangings carried over from sixth year, complete with golden, fairy-filled lamps hanging from the ceiling. 

As she looked around, she caught sight of Harry stuck in conversation with Slughorn, Ginny standing at his side. 

At that moment, she felt lonely. Hermione had expected, despite their argument, that she’d end up attending this evening with Draco. 

Catching sight of the mistletoe, she attempted to dispel other fantasies of snogging him underneath it. What a way it would have been to solidify their relationship and the seriousness of her intentions. 

Perhaps this is what she deserved for her initial reaction…

Tensing at the thought, her dazed state suddenly cleared. 

No, absolutely not. Attending the evening stag, after making the gesture to go with him, was not what she deserved. A simple moment of hesitancy when he asked her to go public did not merit the silent tantrum he’d been throwing. 

She turned to march her way back to the dormitory to give him a piece of her mind. As she progressed down the long hallway, she was suddenly rooted in place. 

Growing louder as it neared, she heard the quick taps of dragonhide against the floor.

Rounding the corner, she watched as Draco appeared before her, donned in a pristine set of dress robes. His hands were adjusting his tie when he caught sight of her and stopped midstep. 

Her anger was subdued slowly by her heart pounding in her chest. As they continued to stand there, she looked him up and down, as if making sure he was actually there. 

He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him. “Schedule’s done. The rest of my evening is open.” 

“Any changes?” She heard the vulnerable hope in her voice. 

“Just a few.” He paused. “But sorry to stay you’ll still be stuck with me after the new year. That is… unless you want to take the opportunity to do a final review.”

Taking a few steps forward, she stepped into him and reached up to straighten his tie. Her eyes held firm to his.

“I trust you.” 

With a pat to his chest, she took a step back and held her hand out to him, looking at him expectantly. 

“Let’s go.” 

Threading his fingers through hers, she turned to lead him back down the hall towards the party. She bit her bottom lip in an attempt to fight off a mischievous grin that was forcing its way onto her face, the fantasy of a mistletoe making a resurgence to the front of her mind. 


End file.
